


Never Have I Ever

by fragile-teacup (Mrs_Gene_Hunt)



Series: The Spaces Between [11]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup
Summary: A 1000 word post-TWOTL fic. The third timestamp for The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, set in Cuba approximately nine months after the ending of Volume 2.Written as a gift for@mferret9for the 2016 Fannibal Secret Exchange.I'mfragile-teacupon Tumblr. Drop by for a visit any time!





	

'Never have I ever spent Christmas in Cuba.' 

On a secluded hillside, a luxurious villa of glass, steel and stone nestles amidst swaying palms. Through the front wall, made entirely of glass for the better enjoyment of the ocean view, moonlight casts soft shadows across the open plan living room. Will lounges at one end of a long beige sofa, legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting in Hannibal's lap. One arm is slung across the back of the sofa, the other resting on his thigh, wine glass in hand.

Hannibal smiles, raising his own glass to his lips. 'Nor I.'

Will sits bolt upright, hand shooting out to grab Hannibal's wrist. The glass wobbles precariously, ruby liquid almost spilling out. 'Uh uh! What do you think you're doing?'

Hannibal's brows shoot up. 'At this precise moment, attempting to not spill seventeen thousand dollar wine.'

Will rolls his eyes. His hand falls away and he leans back, regarding Hannibal with resigned affection. 

'You've never played it, have you?

'Played what?'

'Oh, this is going to be fun.'

A few minutes later, Hannibal apprised of the rules, Will begins again.

'Never have I ever… murdered anyone in the Caribbean.'

When Hannibal takes a casual sip, Will's lips tighten. 

'Problem?'

'Well, that's kind of dependent on what I would find if I looked in our freezer right now.'

Hannibal grins. 'Relax, Will. It was a long time ago.'

' _How_ long?' Still clipped. Doesn't want to think that it's happened since they met. Somehow it would be like hearing about an ex-lover. 

'Almost seven years. In point of fact, I was over here to inspect this very plot of land. But the realtor was late, and when finally he put in an appearance he made it abundantly clear that he did not care for my architectural designs.' Hannibal takes another sip. 'So naturally I incorporated him into them.'

A pause as Will digests this. A thought occurs.

'We're sitting on top of him, aren't we?'

'I'm afraid I can't be quite that specific but there's every chance.' Hannibal's eyes gleam maroon in the moonlight. 'Is it my turn now?' 

Will huffs a laugh, toes digging in to Hannibal's thighs as he uses the leverage to push himself up, to sit a little straighter. 'By all means, Doctor.'

He knows from the dusting of pink across Hannibal's cheekbones that his use of the title, rare these days, has pleased him. Will means to please him. His eyes linger on his husband, impossibly handsome in eggshell button down and black slacks, shirtsleeves rolled up, top two buttons unfastened at his neck. Relaxed, lazy, the predator at rest. Hannibal pauses, head tilted slightly, considering. His words, when they come, roll across his tongue with sensuous intent.

'Never have I ever consumed wine from another's lips.'

Will has yet to taste the obscenely-priced Burgundy but his heart thuds at the decadent notion. Finds that he likes it. Finds himself uncoiling, shifting his feet, sliding across the couch to plant denim-clad knees on either side of Hannibal's thighs. A slow smile.

'Know what? Neither have I.' 

He slides his free hand across Hannibal's chest, up to the neckline of his shirt. Deftly slips free another two buttons and bends, nosing across the exposed collarbone. 

'Should we rectify that situation?' Will teases.

Hannibal's low growl of pleasure vibrates through him and he closes his eyes. Moves higher, sighing against Hannibal's skin, mouthing kisses up his neck. Feels a hand grasp him at the nape and grins, eyes fluttering open to find himself pinned by Hannibal's hot, glittering gaze only inches away.

'Unless you wish the game to end this instant, I suggest you take your turn.'

'Mm.' Eyes narrowed in enjoyment as fingers stroke through his hair. 'Let's see. Never have I ever... had someone say 'I love you' first.'

The gentlest sting to his words, remembering how long it had taken for Hannibal to reciprocate after Will's first impulsive confession.

Yet to his bemusement he finds the hand holding his glass being guided to his lips, amused eyes holding his as Hannibal commands softly, 'Drink, my love.'

Will places his hand over the rim, gaze incredulous. 'Hold on. You said it first? When?'

'The night of the charity gala in Buenos Aires, as you slept.'

'As I... Are you kidding?' The night of the gala, when they had finally become lovers. Just one night before Will had plucked up the courage to blurt out his feelings. And a full week before Hannibal had finally voiced his.

Hannibal smirks. 'Sweet boy, I told you over and over. And how beautifully you smiled as still you slumbered on.'

A memory stirs. Sated and sleepy, yet restless in the newness of their intimacy. A restlessness soothed by words whispered against his skin, permeating his soul with unaccountable warmth. Unaccountable, that is, until now.

A benign manipulation perhaps but still...

_Old habits die hard._

' _Hannibal_.'

_You shit._

Will takes a mouthful of the wine, uncaring of its cost. Grips the front of Hannibal's shirt and pulls him in. Presses their mouths together, lips parting and closing as he feeds the silky liquid in a slow release to Hannibal. A succession of greedy kisses follow, Hannibal's tongue stroking his, chasing every last drop of wine. By the time they come up for air they're both hard, Will squirming against Hannibal, gasping at the tight press of their bodies. They rub slowly against each other, eyes glazed, lost in mutual adoration. 

A muffled whine and faint scratching breaks into their idyll.

'I’m going to let Ceph in now,' Will breathes against Hannibal's lips, stained red like his. 

'And then?' 

Another kiss. Quick. Hard. A promise. 'And then I'm taking you to bed.'

'And then?' 

Another. Slow.

'And then I'm _taking_ you.'

The game, barely begun, over now. But a final thought as Will snares Hannibal's hand and together they stumble to the back door. 

_Never have I ever regretted falling with you._


End file.
